


Aelinor Targaryen and A Song of Ice and Fire

by HeyItsSimone



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: BAMF Daenerys Targaryen, BAMF Rhaenys Targaryen, Babies, Blackfyre (Sword), Dark Sister (Sword), Dragonlord Jon Snow, Dragonwolf Babies, F/F, F/M, Genderbending, Genderfluid Character, Jon Snow is King-Beyond-the-Wall, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Jon is Named Aelinor, King Jon Snow, M/M, Magic, Magical Jon Snow, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Prophetic Dreams, R Plus L Equals J, Soulmates, Targaryen Restoration, Valyria, Warg Jon Snow, canon-typical incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27075466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyItsSimone/pseuds/HeyItsSimone
Summary: In which Jon Snow is raised by his Grandmother and Arthur Dayne before an ambush from the Iron Islands forces him into the Deep North with his companions and his Grandmother’s fostered children: Loras Tyrell, Samwell Tarly, Domeric Bolton, Mya Stone, and Brienne of Tarth.
Relationships: Aegon VI Targaryen (Son of Elia)/Brienne of Tarth, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Daemon Sand/Loras Tyrell, Domeric Bolton/Mya Stone, Elia Martell/Lyanna Stark, Elia Martell/Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Gilly/Samwell Tarly, Grey Worm/Missandei, Jojen Reed/Meera Reed/Bran Stark, Jon Snow/???, Jon Snow/Ygritte, Lyanna Mormont/Rickon Stark, Roslin Frey/Robb Stark, Tyrion Lannister/Shae
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Aelinor Targaryen and A Song of Ice and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything. i wish tho.
> 
> contains a gender-fluid character who can genderbend into their two forms. don't like, don't read.

The deep oranges of the sun was a forceful, errant companion to Midas Ishige, the last scion of the Ishige Dragonlord Family. Midas fanned her face with a heavy hand as she moved through the busy crowds of Valyria. Above, she could feel the swoop of the wind and the cold shadows that hinted a dragon had taken flight. Below, on ground level numerous patrons shouted, opting to sell their wares. In the distance, she could see visiting Maesters of Oldtown hobbling up the steps of Valyria’s ancient and mystical libraries, heavy under the weight of their chain. Occasionally, she would glimpse a young Ghis or Summer Ilse child shuffling behind their silver-blonde-haired Master, her heart palpitations quickening at the sight.

  


She wondered what others saw when they looked at her. 

  


Daenys had called her beautiful. The memory was far away but highly treasured. It was often for Midas to spend her nights tending to the Targaryen Lady. It didn’t matter if Ishige was one of the two Dragonlord Houses that controlled the rest and that Midas had been the daughter of the current Lord Ishige and Archon of Valyria. What mattered was her status as a Dragonseed, bastard by Westerosi terms. Her father hadn’t mattered when her half-brother, Aelinor was still alive and her Uncle Maegon was still siring Dragonseeds with Lyseni whores and Ghis slaves. Now, it mattered most of all in this world of prestige, power, and politics where she was a Dragonlord without a Dragon.

  


That would all change soon.

  


All thanks to her highly detailed and coveted research that had taken part in the past eleven years. Her bound journal was thick with pages of inscribed knowledge of all things Valyrian, any Maester or Professor would kill to get this notebook of a mere Dragonseed. It mattered not of her muddled blood and origins, she was more Valyrian than all of them. For she had unlocked the secrets of all of Valyria. And that made her more Valyrian than all of the inbreed Lords and Ladies that sneered at her when Aelinor was still alive. 

  


The family words of the Targaryens had been Fire & Blood. But the Ishige’s had one similar yet different.  _ We question in blood and we answer in flames. _ Midas would burn for her answers just as they had led to the Purge of Ishige, a house genocide that she was largely responsible for. 

  


Seeing her House’s manse on the horizon, Midas’ breath caught in the back of her throat. In a couple of fortnights, all that was left of the Ishiges would be ashes (except the dangerous gift she had left in the Targaryen line), and all of her research work coming into the flesh.

  


The thought of her house extermination had garnered her tears before. Seldom did Midas cry. But she did after the death of her brother when she felt his breaths still, dampened curls from sweat hanging limply across her lap, and all she had known at that moment was the desire for blood. 

  


She prayed to the gods for their forgiveness. Although she didn’t directly commit the act of kinslaying, she had benefited largely from the action of her brother dying. But the burning hole in her heart, the sickening realization, and the sleepless nights did little to remind her of the good of Aelinor’s death.

  


A Ghis boy whose name she had not taken to remember after her Mother’s death opened the door for her with a grimace-laced smile. Her servants, she could never bring it to herself to call them her slaves when she had been birthed from one, loved her and she cared for them. 

  


But, she couldn’t bear to love them after she began planning their doom and the doom of everyone they knew and loved. 

  


_ The Doom of Valyria.  _ All caused by a girl born of a slave with golden-copper skin, silver-blonde hair, and violet eyes, whose mother had said to hail from the wasteland of Sothoryos. 

  


“Thank you,” she murmured as he took off her cloak.

  


Pale Lysenis girls moved forward to undress her for a bath soaked in foreign salts and oils, but she waved them away with an insolent “no.”

  


There was not enough time for soaking in baths and delicacies, not when the likelihood of magic existed at the prospect of Valyria’s fall.

  


She needed blood. She rushed towards her Father’s study in hurried motions and exasperated breaths. 

  


“Father...” she said in a fast breath after she had climbed up the long, windy steps of his study. 

  


Archon Lord Aurion Ishige was every bit of Valyrian, from his long silver-blonde hairs that he kept tied up in a bun atop of his head, his high cheekbones, sharp jawline, and violet eyes. He had been the most handsome man in the Universe before to her. It mattered not that all of the Valyrians possessed unnatural looks...he had been her father and the most natural thing to her and that fact amplified his already beautiful looks. Sometimes, she wondered what had possessed him to rape her Mother if he was an intelligent, handsome, rich man who had once been the Jewel of Valyria. 

  


It didn’t matter. Her mother had died at his blade. And he would die at hers.

  


“What do you want, Midas?” Her father drawled, long and insolent. He hated her and she hated him just as viciously.

  


Even as far as he was in his cups, her Father still managed to be clear-minded and sharp with his passionate looks of hatred. Before it had been different. Before he had stared at her with looks of cloying pity. Pity due to her love for him.

  


“I-...” 

  


Midas fingered around in her pockets, drawing up a necklace that she had kept so dear to her. Her Father’s eyes immediately widened.

  


“I found it, Father.”

  


It was a lie but the way her Father shuddered made her wish it wasn’t. 

  


Aelinor had given her the necklace when he was fifteen and she was twelve. Twelve years ago. He had draped the necklace across her neck and murmured sweet nothings of how they were to be married once she had her blood. She could still feel the whisper of his kiss on her neck. He had loved her and she had betrayed him.

  


“Whe-where?” 

  


“In the Library. I was looking up there for more books on Dragons-” Her Father’s eyes took a hard glint to them at the mentions of her dragons. “On the third floor, on the fifth bookshelf to the left of the door in his favorite opera  _ Of Dragons and Gods,  _ I found it on the three-hundred-and-third page.” 

  


Midas overlooked the fact that she had found it three months before he died on the battlefield with a sword in his stomach. Aelinor had wanted  _ her  _ to find it. Not the Father that attempted to keep them apart and keep her inferior to him. She overlooked the fact that the three-hundred-and-third page had all of the sweet nothings that Aelinor loved to whisper to her.

  


_ “In death, my love is still eternal. In life, my kiss is flaming. In sleep, my love is purifying. This is my wish to you.” _

  


_ Midas gasped. “Do you really mean that?” _

  


_ “All that and more, my love. I don’t care what Father says…” Aelinor’s face scrunched up in hate, “Once I inherit the Lordship and he is finally wasting in the ground as he belongs. Unloved and unwanted. We will marry and I will usher in a new age for Valyria. One of the intellectuals, warriors, where there is a King among all men-” _

  


_ “-And a queen upon all women,” she interjected. _

  


_ Aelinor chuckled, his laugh vibrating from his chest to her sides. “Yes, a Queen among women, my love.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth that sent her face heating up. “Everyone will be heard, every farmer, butcher, lord, knight. No one will be neglected. There will be no slaves. Dragons will swerve in the skies, but I shall take us to heavens.” _

  


_ “What about the Aegius daughter?” She asked, fear clenching at her throat. _

  


_ Aelinor’s jaw clenched. “You need not worry about that. I will have one wife and one wife only and that wife is you, dear sister.” He pressed against her more tightly, she could hear his heartbeat. “There will be no slaves and women will be heard just as their male counterparts.” _

  


_ “You are a true thinker, Ael…: _

  


_ “And you are my muse, Midas.” _

  


The memory went away from her as she glimpsed at her Father’s expectant smile, that looked so much like Aelinor’s and so unlike his.

  


“Give it, won’t you?” He said, his voice verging on desperation.

  


She nodded. “I’ll place it on you.” 

  


“No,” her Father murmured, moving his grubby hands forward to snatch it from her. 

  


She moved it from his grasp, “He would’ve wanted this.”

  


“Aelinor wanted a lot of things,” her Father said stubbornly. But it was too late, she had already fastened the necklace around his neck.

  


She tugged it tightly around his windpipe. Her Father choked, saying many things, many unintelligible things. His hands reached out to grab her hand. Do something to stop her from killing him. But it was prudent not to, he was sluggish already. Deep in his Dornish wines. His movements were not of his own, not of the warrior in him. The necklace had already drawn blood. His head tilted backward, so she could see life run out his eyes.

  


His violet eyes were so scared.

  


She wondered how they looked when he raped her mother.

  


She loosened the necklace, before tightening it again after she saw what she thought was her brother’s ghost. 

  


“ _ Continue, _ ” he said, placing a hand on her hand.  _ “Let my wish live.”  _

  


So, she let her and him kill her King of her Father. He slumped in the chair after he reached forward to choke her in the response to her attempted murder before it became murder. His hand hung still like a portrait before dropping along with the rest of his body.

  


Midas turned towards her brother, expecting to see his ghost, but seeing nothing but a family portrait of the Ishige Family when her Father was young. Her Grandmother had been beautiful with the typical Valyrian looks, a slender neck, and the poise and regality of a ruler. She had killed her with the Tears of Lys in her tea. It had been the easiest thing ever. She had been seventeen, only a year after Aelinor had died. Her Grandmother posed with a hand on his wife’s shoulder. Stern and unforgiving, he had a masculine beauty to him. He had died on his own accord, not by her hand. With a sword in his hand and a sword causing his downfall. She had hated him the moment he referred to her Mother as a slut. She had been happy when he died. Her Uncle Maegon had been an impetuous shit even at the tender age of twenty-one, he had a hand lying on his wife’s waist as she looked at him with straight, unadulterated hatred. She had killed Maegon with a dagger in hand, carving him like the most recent kill of a Hunt. It had been harder to disguise his death. But blaming it on the growing rift with the Aegius family had only lengthened the rivalry. Her Aunt Alysanne had died birthing Maegon’s son, a boy named Maegor, who only lived three weeks after his Mother. And her father, killed by a Family heirloom that was said to possess the secrets of dragons, men, and Valyrians. 

  


She felt no guilt in her heart. Besides, guilt at the death of her Uncle causing an ongoing war with the Aegius family...which led to Aelinor’s death. 

  


She hurried out of the door. Glancing at her Father’s body for one, lone moment before locking the door from the inside out. The servants wouldn’t find his body for days. Besides, even if they could find his body. They and she would be just as dead as her Father. Just by Dragonfire.

  


She ran out the steps with anticipation. The bloodied necklace still in her hand, dripping droplets of blood on every step. Leading a trail for the beast that would emerge from Fire & Blood.

  


Now, she would sleep.

  
  


\---------

  


When Midas woke up, there was a liquid between her legs and an ache to push. Midas grunted, the incantation had awakened full-force. It was time to birth the child that had been sleeping in her womb for the better part of twelve years.

  


She gritted her teeth. The pain like no other. Fuck Gaemon Targaryen and his saccharine smile. Seeing Daenys face at the thought of her brother managed to ease her pain in the slightest bit. She had only loved two people and had been loved by two. Daenys Targaryen was one of them and Aelinor Ishige was the other.

  


She breathed harshly. Her breath sent harsh shards of pain to accompany the pressure in her womb. Sweat dribbled at the sides of her forehead. Her bed was soaked with blood. A baby was tearing its way out of her body. 

  


A feeble cry. He had finally fallen out after arduous pushes and vehement screams clamped down by a feather-filled pillow.

  


Midas sat up. Reaching towards the baby, clawing towards him. To glimpse at her son.

  


He looked nothing like her. Nothing like her Sothoryos parts. He resembled a true Valyrian with only slight-tannish skin. His eyes were closed but Midas knew when they finally settled on the color, a violet-eyed babe would be him. She itched to name him in her late true love’s likeness, but she knew that it was only right for her lover who was alive to name him.

  


Daenys, after all, was going to be the one to raise him along with his true Father, Gaemon Targaryen.

  


Wispy bits of curly golden-silver hair fanned his soft head. Midas placed a kiss on his head before she let out a weak call for a servant. 

  


By the time the servant had arrived up the long, winding hallway out of breath, Midas had already clasped her son in swaddled clothing with a letter sealed with her perfume for Daenys, the only Mother her son would know. 

  


Her family necklace, the same one that she had used to kill her son’s Grandfather was placed around his body, his neck too small to bear the weight of the dead Ishige’s.

  


The servant, a Lyseni girl, that she had known for seven years, the same age as her, eyes widened at the sight of the baby in her arms.

  


“Do you want me to kill it, my lady?” Had been the first thing out of the girl’s mouth, her eyes frightened at the thought.

  


“No, Rujb,” she said softly. 

  


She told her her plan, liking that Rujb didn’t ask any questions or mutter any contradictions but hating the reason why. Rujb was a slave, she was bred to not ask any questions from the moment she was born in the pleasure houses of Lys.

  


“I am to take the young Lordling to Dragonstone?” she asked after she had explained the entire plot.

  


“Yes, Rujb. You will pose as his wetnurse there. The Targaryens are a rich family and their future Lady is nice and kind.”

  


“Lady Daenys?”

  


“Yes, she will take care of you. You won’t have to do any of the things you were forced to here.”

  


Rujb noticeably brightened. Midas pressed a couple of coins in her hands, “For your travels. There is more in Midas’ bag.”

  


“I will do everything in my power to protect the young lordling. Thank you, Lady Ishige,” she had a deep, earnest smile on her face.

  


“I know you will.” And she did.

  


\-----

  


She had sent all of the servants away to their chambers. There was no one on the upper floor, except her Father’s dead body.

  


She muttered the Sothoryos song that her mother had sung to her every time she awoke from nightmares. But her Mother’s song would not save her. 

  


She had drenched blood on the floor. Her blood this time, mixed in with her Father’s. She would die tonight and would be reborn in a beast that would wreak havoc on the greatest of civilizations.

  


She screamed. A dragon’s roar coming out instead of a pained woman.

  


Fire escaped from her throat, turning her throat into ash and revealing the dragon’s scales.

  


Wings escaped from her arms, huge wings that knocked the bookshelves down. Spilling endless tombs of books. Layers of flesh and blood fell unto the floor. Tattered pieces of flesh were the only remnants of the human she had once been.

  


Ice coated her nose before she could sneeze at the pressure of the flames that licked up her legs like her son nipping at her teat.

  


Her head exploded.

  


She felt different. More animalistic. A growl rumbled deep within her belly. The expanse of the sky was revealed after her huge body ruptured the roof.

  


She couldn’t see herself, but she knew she was the largest dragon that had ever existed. Old Valyria would fall under her fire, ice, air, earth, and water. Midas Ishige, the last of the Ishige family, had been elevated to the first Elemental Dragon.

  


All would befall to her flames.

  


\---

  
  


Daenys pressed a cool kiss on the babe’s head. 

  


“What will you name him, my love?” 

  


She had not touched Gaemon for several moons, ever since the baby had been pressed against her breast by the Lyseni woman. His indiscretion with her former lover had been twelve years ago but she knew it had been forceful. Midas was a woman full of grief the year of her brother's passing. 

  


“I will name him Aegon Targaryen?”

  


“Targaryen…” Gaemon practically spat.

  


“I have a daughter in my womb and they will marry.”

  


“HE IS NOTHING BUT A DRAGONSEED,” Gaemon’s words were vile.

  


“AND HE EXISTS BECAUSE OF YOUR WICKED DESIRE,” Daenys was angry, her cheeks tinged red with bloodshot red eyes. “I loved her,” she said softly, “And I loved you. But I will always and did love her more.”

  


He nodded, daftly.

  


“You will raise him as your son. You will accept him as your son because that is what he is.”

  


“And you?”

  


“What?”

  


“What will you do?”

  


“I will love him like a Mother. Because I loved his Mother like you loved me and like I never will love you again.”

  


“I love you, sweet sister…” Aegon’s voice was pleading and earnest.

  


“I loved her,” she begged, unyielding.

  


“I will become a man that is worthy of your love. I will become a man - a Lord so great, that you will have to love me.”

  


And Gaemon did become the best Lord of Dragonstone that the Targaryens had ever seen. He had become such a fruitful lord that the civilians titled him Gaemon the Glorious. But Daenys never loved him after she became a Mother to Aegon.

  


Elanea Targaryen married her brother on her sixteenth name day and he inherited the Lordship of Dragonstone. Their descendant through their son Aenys, and his son Daemion and his son Aerion was Aegon the Conqueror, the first King of the Seven Kingdoms. 

  


And every time they celebrated Aegon the First’s nameday they celebrated his true Mother’s research victory and the Fall of Valyria. 

  


The Ishige Bloodline Lived On.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> what did you think? more to come soon!


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